


Welcome to the Mighty Nein

by Cers



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Cerberus Assembly Betrayal? In my CR Fanfiction? More likely than you think, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Post C2E97/98, Shadowgast, peace talks, plot holes are stoppered by angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23067904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cers/pseuds/Cers
Summary: Stupid! Dumb! Wizard! Coping! With! Stupid! Dumb! Wizard! Feelings!(Can you tell I'm scared for This Wisdom-is-my-dump-stat man)Love to the ETFC server for providing the springboard for this, see you all in therapy.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	Welcome to the Mighty Nein

“Instead we present to you the true traitor to The Kryn Dynasty- one Essek Thelyss.” 

Essek is ready, expectant and waiting for it. His knees slam into the deck, illusion breaking, as pain sears up his legs. Rough hands grapple his hands and chains are forced on him. He does not resist. 

Within seconds he is pulled upright, looking into the sneer of Martinet Ludinus Da’leth.

 _It would be prudent to know we have eyes on them at_ all times _, Thelyss._

“What exactly is the meaning of this Marti - Sh- _Shadowhand_?” Erelka of Den Mirrim, designated Dynasty emissary, leaps to her feet incredulous. On her second life, and from the lower courts, but had done good smalltime diplomatic work. They had spoken a few times at functions when necessary, and he found her straight to the point with her facts and cornering questions. With her intelligent eyes, level-headedness, and firm tones she was a good candidate for this fragile task. He liked her. 

And yet he could not look her in the eyes. 

_You’re a good man, we know you are Essek. We know you._

She slams one hand on the plain table servicing the negotiations, weighted-down papers shifting, and he sees the legs wobble with her fury. “ _Explain yourself_ , Martinet!” The wind picks up, rustling the sailcloth canvas currently shading them. 

_There is a high likelihood that the people that you are dancing with mean to cut your throat and leave you in the dust._

The Martinet, unperturbed by her show of anger, leers in response and spreads his arms calmly. “Why, we thought it simply be in everyone’s best interest to let you know that the true traitor is _not_ Adeen.” Tasithar, resigned, shackled and guarded by the edge of the boat jerks up. “Thelyss approached the Assembly a few years ago with not one, but _two_ beacons begging _collaboration_ and _research_ and _power_. Naturally we declined not wanting anything to do with such - forgive me - _Crick_ -based magic and sent him away. He appears to have found someone else instead.”

Erelka, usually so calm, had almost a comical look on her face. He heard a commotion and noise of protests several feet behind him, but they stilled when both Empire and Dynasty militia stepped forward. 

_The pain is somewhat comforting. I am my own punishment._

Affronted and insulted, Erelka hurls question upon question at Ludinus. He bats them away with practiced ease, answering with _just enough_ truth to cover his tracks without implicating himself. Or these peace talks. 

_Thousands of people have died, Essek._

She stops. He can hear the furious whispering behind him- _please_ don’t. 

_I cannot protect you._ _Except I can._

When Erelka has run her course of logic, unable to find issue or holes in the partial fabrication, she slowly turns to him. She has no more words. He does not offer any to exonerate him. In the absence of his opposition to the accusations, he spares her a hard look instead, teeth grinding, preventing every lie and truth from spilling. One that says _I am a traitor through and through_. One that pleads with her to let it happen. Her flinch is minor, almost imperceptible. And then she mirrors his expression, standing tall. 

_She thinks my behaviour unusual. For_ me _. Well, it can be disorienting having friends get under your skin._

He gives her credit for keeping her head. It cannot be easy being offered the head of the Shadowhand of The Kryn Dynasty with evidence, unable to dispute it. He’s grateful for her dedication and commitment. She understands the weight of this moment. 

_These people can change you._

_Oh didn’t they just._

Her voice is steady and strong as she agrees to his arrest. He is forced to his feet, hands bound tightly behind him. So far it had gone as they had planned. He stared ahead, unwilling to look to the Martinet, smug and victorious. To Mirrim, defeated and stuck. Now for the hardest part. 

_There is no path to redemption for me._

Shoved forward, he stumbles on the deck, his legs aching. The wood pounds against him fittingly in a treacherous beat with each step. The light above burns. 

_I would love for you to see the sunrise._

His smile is sardonic and forced. He saw it this morning. It was an damning crimson, drenching the entire ocean in blood. Not his favourite shade of red, no. It was fitting, he thought in the aftermath.

A quiet mutiny ( something he was selfishly scared to want) grows restless behind him and like the traitor he is, he risks a glance over his shoulder. 

Jester has one hand on her mouth, eyes bright with tears- her other hand outstretched over a guard’s arm. Towards him. His shackled hands ache to reach back, to feel her radiant warmth. 

_Essek, what are you doing?!_

_I owe more allegiance to you than either the Empire or Dynasty._

Beau is taught and hunched- ready to spring. He sees her hand clutching her bo-staff, knuckles white. While different to his combat style, he could see she was calculating with her own how best to reach him. Eyes darting wildly at all figures on the deck. She was incredible. 

_Yes friend, what are you doing?_

_What I didn’t account for was...liking you all._

Yasha, so normally quiet and reserved- he’s seen thunder clouds on the horizon less daunting than her dark expression. Her hand already grips her hilt, though the ominous blade remains sheathed. Next to her he would be safe in the eye of the storm. 

_I might be damned. . ._

Fjord’s tusks are bared in a snarl, hand splayed open - ready to summon his sword. His other is curbed in a shape very familliar to Essek. A spell-shaping hand. Like Beau he was canvassing the area like it was a tactical map and seeking their escape. 

_But I’m going to leave this world a better place._

Veth is shaking, hands low but moving, dark eyes wide with intent. Her crossbow, she’s loading it. For him. Her new (old?) form had not hampered any of her skill as she sought the best place to help him advantageously. 

_By protecting you from those that threaten harm._

Caduceus has bowed to place a hand on her shoulder, his mouth muttering calm words to the rest (he hopes). But his eyes are affixed to Essek. Sad eyes. Supportive eyes. Good. He would help them see that it was futile. That this was done. He gives him a nod. Thank you. 

_We’re here today. Not then. Now. And that’s all that matters._

Caleb stands just to the side. He is rigid and _fuming._ He is scowling at Da’leth with a dark snarl to his lips. He as already pieced it together. Of _course_ he has. 

_The enemy of my friend, is my enemy indeed._

_And the enemy threatened my friends._

There is a spell already building in his hand, component pouch open. His mouth is now making slow calculated movements. A moment more and it would be released. 

_Can we count on you when the deal sours?_

_He didn’t think so when asked, but here, in the blistering heat of the judgement day, he’s glad the answer is ‘yes’._

Essek silently begs for his attention, and if there are deities watching over them then they had a hand that day, for Caleb blessedly breaks his glare to glance at him. As always with them, their unspoken words say so much more, stretching over a moment in a way dunamancy can never replicate. _Say the word_ , Caleb all but shouts. _We’ll do this. For you_. They wanted his permission. Even after how things ended, it was that small selfish bud of hope that he tried so hard to quash bursting forth again. 

_I know for a fact that one of the people you were negotiating with would throw you, me, any number of us into the fire._

_He was not wrong. Caleb rarely is._

Essek is reminded of the Scourger in the Dungeon of Penance. Of the rattling chains arching forward, Caleb’s blood bursting high. Essek didn’t understand his resulting fury then. Looking at this incredibly mismatched group, ready to burn the world, he understands it clearer than any of his century of studies.

 _You didn’t account for us-_ good _._

_Never in any of his plans did he give himself up. But for these people- in a heartbeat. A heartbeat that with each passing pound strengthened, and purified that venom in his veins._

He crushed her on an order. On Caleb’s orders. A simple hand motion. That he really didn't need. But Caleb did. Caleb needed to give that permission. He understood them then, he just didn’t know he did. 

It would be so easy. And they _would_. They would fight for him. Against The Assembly. The Dynasty. The Empire. The world. Right here, on the edge of peace, they were ready to throw that away. For him. Everything that they had been fighting and bleeding for in the last few months. Thrown away- for him. 

_You have a rare opportunity here Thelyss. One chance to save yourself._

And die for him. 

_And we are offering it._

His eyes, so blue and bright were burning through him, branding Essek’s soul and offering hope just like when he held the cursed beacon aloft. His forehead prickles with memory. 

_You weren’t part of the plan. And now you’re all in terrible danger for the things they know._

No. Not these people. Not his friends. Please. I don't want to lose you. 

And looking in Caleb’s eyes, deep and haunted he sees their answer. His answer. 

_So be it._

Curiously, it’s easier than he thought it would be, shaking his head. _Pleading with them_. Time stretches forth - longer than anything Essek had ever experimented with - and he holds his breath. He sees the war waging in his eyes, the chioces and consequences. Essek himself had run through all of them and more. This was the only way. 

Caleb’s spell falters and the fight fizzles out of them both. Regret replaces the fury and Essek’s heart breaks.

_He really had surrounded himself with friends that would protect him._

Strangely, as the rest see Caleb’s reaction (they’re so incredibly in tune with one another), it’s the heaviest weight lifted from his shoulders as they drop their stances. It warms him that Beau is the very last to give in. She is shaking her head manically. He can hear the choked 'no, _no!_ ' from here. He sees the determination settle in their shoulders. 

_You are a broken person. Who had ill intentions and wandered aimlessly ..._

Despite walking across the sea-beaten deck, shackled and magically inert, he feels like he’s floating again. 

_On a path that you had no idea how to complete._

They were the one unknown in this twisted plan. The hurricane he couldn’t wager on. He didn’t expect- but secretly ~~shamefully~~ hoped - that they might fight to free him. In the dark, lonely hours of last night, after the damning conversation with Ludinus, he envisioned them. Countering, yelling, arguing, defending. Fighting. Hurting. Falling. One by one. Bloodily, cruelly. Unjustly. Wrongfully. 

_And yet somehow along the way you found a heart._

He could not let that happen. Never. He was not worth it. But them? They were.

 _You sound like_ all _of us._

Caleb’s gaze never wavers, and in the last moments before he can no longer see his friends (his _friends_ ), he is given one last silent message. _We’re coming for you._ Each of their eyes says it, loudly, boldy. Defiantly for anyone looking to them. It is a threat, and a promise. 

And Essek believes them. He really does. 

_Welcome to the Mighty Nein!_

**Author's Note:**

> Stupid! Dumb! Wizard! Coping! With! Stupid! Dumb! Wizard! Feelings!
> 
> (Can you tell I'm scared for This Wisdom-is-my-dump-stat man) 
> 
> Love to the ETFC server for providing the springboard for this, see you all in therapy.


End file.
